"Finally, my Beatle boots took me off to the local..." This Brixton Key geezer knows the score. What made the world go round before love was found in the Swingin' Sixties? Purple hearted amphetamine and a funky-butt, bam-a-lam cascade of 45s electrifying the site specific generation that ran dancin’ in a parallel universe to the deadly Kray twins. Believe me, that's what blew the lid off smoky old London town. Music. On this evidence, Brixton Key was more than there, eagle-eyed, itchy-fingered, blocked and hot to trot. This cat puts the peepshow peeps back into Samuel Pepys (check him out!)…a Boswell for our times, Brixton connects the micro dots between the smash'n'grab worlds of notorious criminal Mad Frankie Fraser and Mr. Charlie Watts, the snazziest dressed jazz drummer in England, never forgetting the miniskirt fashion visionary Mary Quant. Natch, Fabs mentor Brian Epstein and Andrew Loog ("Ten knicker to you, mate"). With prose as sharp as Twiggy's cheekbones, louder than Pete Townshend’s powerchords and more lyrical than a Soho corner beat poet, Brixton Key tells a story that’s fresher than time discovered in capsules Quatermass. Speedy. And, just one more thing, "wham bam, thank you, mam" ain't no rhyming Cockney slang. That's Brixton Key. You’ll dig him.” Eamon Carr, Dublin Evening Herald, Choice FM radio, and drummer supreme.